


Addendums and Things

by relativestranger



Series: Just MakoHaru Things [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, HaruMako Smut, HaruMako Things, Humor, M/M, MakoHaru Things, MakoHaru smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5422904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relativestranger/pseuds/relativestranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here we go again. Just (smutty) MakoHaru things. With just the tiniest hint of fluff.<br/>Because you can't have all smut, all the time.<br/>Wait, can you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January: Addendum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention! Attention!  
> This is a continuation of chapter 7, January of my other Free! fic, so allow me to direct you to that before you start on this (should you decide to do so): [Term of Endearment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960912)
> 
> This kept rattling around in my head after I finished Chapter 7 and I didn't want to tack it on because I liked how it ended and I didn't want to post this as a new chapter because it throws everything off so here’s an addendum instead. Hopefully, I will have chapter 8 up soon. Ish. Fingers crossed.

_****Haru's head suddenly hits a pillow and when he opens his eyes, he finds Makoto kneeling over him. His eyes darkened by arousal, "sorry, but it'll be a while yet. You did quite the number on me," he hums his approval at the memory. "But I want a nice, thorough taste of **you**." He licks Haru's lips, "would that be an okay substitute?"_

* * *

He isn't given a chance to answer as Makoto's tongue is already shoved down his throat. He readjusts himself, wriggling against the disheveled sheets until he's sure that they are both reasonably comfortable.  
Makoto, however, disagrees and finds a more acceptable position. Pushing himself onto his knees, he grasps the backs of Haru's knees and pulls him to the center of the bed; his head thumping against the mattress. Makoto clears the bed, sweeping the pillows and the blanket-that's half hanging off the bed from when Haru flung it-to the floor. Makoto sucks in a shakily breath, his eyes glazing over and he licks his lips. His body twitches as he feels the unmistakable heat start to rise from his chest and creeping to his face. He tries to will his cock to stir but to no avail. It’s just _too_ soon. He **desperately** wishes that he's hard again, wanting to stroke himself at the sight because, _fuck_ , Haru looks delectable spread out on the bed like that.

All by his lonesome.

Against the dark navy sheets that contrasts nicely to his smooth, pale skin.

He leans forward—practically crawling to him—and with his hands, he pushes a knee outward, exposing him to his gaze. Haru's cock bounces at every movement, bobbing enticingly. He licks his lips again because he swears he's drooling.

Haru reaches over and pinches Makoto on the shoulder, "stop looking at me like that," he mutters with a bright splash of red streaked over his cheeks. But even as he said it, he knew he didn't mean it. He wanted both: wants Makoto to keep looking at him like he's going to _devour_ him but also _not_ wanting him to look at him because it’s, well,  _embarrassing_. He wants to look away but Makoto is quick to draw him back.

"How am I looking at you, Haru?"

He huffs in irritation, "you know how."

"I don't! I can't see my own face when I look at you, Haru!"

This time, Makoto doesn't stop him and Haru looks away, chewing on his lip at that logic. He doesn't care though because he's sure that Makoto knows _exactly_ what he means. He just wants him to say it. _Bastard_. Well, good luck with that. Because he’s not. He won’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, Haru reaches for his shoulder, pulling him down for a hard kiss that quickly deepens. He angles himself the best he can with Makoto's still holding him open. He finds it after some maneuvering—grinding his erection against the other's muscular thigh.  
And once again, Makoto finds himself wishing he's hard because it just feels _so **fucking** **good**_ whenever his and Haru's cocks rub against each other. He rubs against him anyway. Flaccid, hard, it doesn’t matter; it still feels unbelievably good. Releasing his leg, he encourages Haru to wrap them around him, lining up his erection with his groin.

With one large hand, he takes Haru's hands and pins them above his head. With the other, he caresses his torso; tracing his rib cage with curious fingers and even curiouser tongue. He tries to keep a hold on his hands but his reach can only stretch so far. Nipping up toward his neck again, he drags his hand down his long arms, his lightly calloused hands gliding along his smooth skin.

He whispers into his neck, “don’t move your arms.” 

The dark, commanding voice full of promise is back and it sets his flesh on fire. Haru bites the inside of his cheek to stop the moan from tumbling from his lips. 

"Keep them above your head. _Don't_ touch, Haru. Not until I tell you to, okay?" Haru nods frantically; he'll do whatever Makoto wants if it'll speed things up. He curls his hands at the edge of the mattress; fingers digging into the material so hard that he's sure he'd rip a hole in it.

Makoto's eyes drift upward and watches as Haru struggles to follow his instructions. His face is flush in a delicious shade of pink and the tendons in his wrist and fingers flex noticeably. He keeps his eyes on him even as his mouth descends over his jaw and down his throat. He watches as Haru's usually stoic and calm demeanor begin its slow descent to obliteration. And in knowing that he's responsible for such reactions—that he's able to reduce him to sobbing wreck—he hums happily against his sternum as he observes a multitude of expressions twist and flicker in pleasure across face.

Haru clenches his fingers; they're sore and have grown warm and red due to the lack of circulation. He forces his eyes open and stares at the ceiling while Makoto kisses, licks, nips, sucks, and occasionally, outright  _bites_ his chest and torso. It's going to leave a wide array of marks, bruises, and blemishes and he already knows his teammates are going to be nuisances with their nonstop hooting and hollering and _oohing_ and _ahhing_.  
But he can't even bring himself to care. Trying to focus on one particular spot on the ceiling, he takes deep, calming breaths that do _not_ give him the desired affect.  
His fingers itch. Longing to touch Makoto. He makes the mistake of peeking down at him so when smoldering green meets blazing blue, he loses his breath. He finds that he can't look away even if he wants to; he's enraptured by his gaze. It's almost magnetic.

Makoto makes a great big show now that he's got his attention. His pink tongue peeks out between his lips and he slowly—ever so slowly—dips his tongue into his navel. His chest becomes slick with the combination of sweat and pre-come from whenever Haru wriggles against him. The hard length pressing at him feels hot and pleasant and a bunch of other words he can't currently grasp at. He maintains eye contact with him even as his tongue sweeps over the fine hairs of his lower stomach.

Haru watches in fascination as Makoto opens his mouth and seals his lips over an oblique muscle just above his hip. His stomach involuntarily clenches whenever his tongue lashes at him, bucking at Makoto. But Makoto doesn't miss a beat. He pins his hip down with a strong hand and continues suckling him all while never breaking eye contact. And _fuck_ , it only arouses him even more.

Makoto finally releases him and Haru shivers; the hot patch of skin instantly cooling in the cold air. Haru holds his breath as Makoto crawls up his body with a predatory grin stretched across his face. He straddles his stomach; rubbing his soft cock at the hard planes of his torso. He sighs in relief when Makoto grasps one of his arms and brings his wrist to his lips.

"Keep that one there," he murmurs into his skin and Haru's toes curl at the vibrations against his pulse. Makoto stiffens his tongue and paints random circles of differing sizes along his arm.

Haru huffs in irritation: it isn't fair that Makoto is seemingly unaffected by all this when he's a shaking, hot mess. 

Makoto slides his lips to the crook of his elbow and laughs, "if you honestly think this doesn't affect me, you're out of your mind. Just because I don't have a hard-on, doesn't mean I'm not incredibly,  _incredibly_ aroused." He dips his tongue and laps at the hollow at the inside of his elbow, "you have no idea what you do to me, Haru. ...How you make me feel. Sometimes, I can't even think when you're around. The things I want to do... to show you how much I..." He trails off but it isn't difficult to fill in the blanks.  
He drapes Haru's arm over his shoulder and lowers himself until he's pressed up against him. "You're everything, Haru. You're my everything. You always will be and I... I didn't need anything more than what we were but you gave it to me anyway. Because being with you... Whether its being a friend, boyfriend, lover... whatever it may be... It's enough. It's _more_ than enough. Your presence overwhelms me, Nanase Haruka. And when you look at me, I feel like I can't breathe. Because I think you feel like that too."

Oh gods, is he crying? He feels like he's crying but his vision is still clear so maybe he isn't. How is Makoto so eloquent with his words? Why is it so hard for _him_ to find those same words? They're words he _knows_. They're words he's _used_ before. So why is it so hard to string them together like Makoto so effortlessly does? He's encapsulated everything he's been feeling for the past, what, _year_?

He nods and finds a pair of words that _don't_ fail him, "I do, Makoto. I do."

Makoto sighs in relief, his heart beating out of his rib cage at Haru's confirmation. The particular order of words isn't needed. They most likely won't ever be needed. Because everything they feel for the other isn't hidden; it isn't a mystery. It's written in their looks. In their kisses. In their touch. There's nothing to decipher and there's no confusion. It just... **_is_**.  
Haru closes the distance between their lips, desperate to touch him in some capacity after the sudden emotional upheaval brought upon by Makoto.

Makoto skims his fingers up his arms, coaxing the hand that's clutching onto the mattress to lace around his.

"Makoto," he feels his chest rumble, "I want to touch you."

Makoto laughs breathily, "I want you to touch me too." 

Haru squeezes his hand before letting go. His fingers linger at his forearm, tracing the flexing tendons beneath his skin before moving on to stroke his bicep and shoulder. He pulls him down, burying his face in his neck, breathing him in and sucking at the juncture where his neck and shoulder meet. He feels Makoto's hot breath from his sigh brush over his temples.

His hands smooth over the hard planes of his broad back and realizes that he hasn't been paying nearly enough attention to his back as he should have. How in the world did he overlook the spectacular, rippling expanse? It's a _gorgeous_ section of his body that _demands_ to be worshiped; that **_deserves_** to be worshiped. Years of swimming the backstroke has carefully constructed it. It **_needs_** to be appreciated. It's a travesty that it's been neglected for so long. It's something needs to be corrected as soon as possible. But not immediately.

Because at the moment, Makoto is preoccupied with his hands and lips drifting south toward Haru's leaking cock. He rubs gentle circles at his groin, the coarse hair brushing him teasingly. His lips latch onto a patch of creamy skin at his inner thigh and Haru clutches at his head.

He scratches his scalp, "Makoto... Makoto," his voice is desperate and pleading.

“'Makoto' what? What are you asking me, Haru?"

"...Touch me."

"But I am touching you," he strokes his quaking thighs.

"Makoto! With your mouth. ...Touch me with your mouth!"

"Ah. You should have just said so…" he replaces his fingers with his mouth and suckles at his thigh.

Haru stutters in frustration, "th-that's not what I meant…"

"Then what did you mean? You have to be explicit. What if I misinterpret something? We wouldn't want that, would we?"

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Makoto! Use your _mouth_ on my _cock_!"

"Are you going to ask nicely?"

Haru narrows his eyes, _I_ _'m going to kick you in the face._

Makoto arches a brow amusingly, his green eyes glimmering, _you're still going to have to ask nicely._

Swallowing his pride because, really, what else can he do, he gives Makoto what he wants, "Makoto, please... P-please use your mouth... Please suck my cock."

He hums in delight and coos, "so polite, Haru-chan."

"Oh, for the love of... don't call me that. Not when you're about to suck me off."

"Then what _should_ I call you? How about..." he pauses and actually thinks about it, "Haruka?" 

Haru gasps and trembles at his given name.

_Well, this is new and unexpected._

Makoto grins gleefully, "oh!... You actually  _like_ that! You _like_ being called Haruka."

"I... I do not," he mumbles miserably.

"Maybe not normally," he agrees, "but when we're like this... you like it when I call you Haruka."

"I do not," he unconvincingly reiterates.

" _Ha_ - _ru_ - _ka_." He stresses the last syllable and Haru's too late in biting back his moan, Makoto has already heard it so he keeps whispering his name, " _Haruka_."  
He whimpers faintly.

“Can’t _wait_ to taste Haruka. But… Haruka’s _so_ big. How am I supposed to fit Haruka in my mouth? Got any suggestions, Haru _ka_?” At each pass of _Haruka_ from his mouth, his tongue flicks at his thigh.

He's teetering on the edge and groans. He really _is_ going to make him come with just his words... He tugs on his hair and pulls him up, wanting, needing to feel his lips on his own. Bonus points for shutting him up.

"You're bigger than I am. If I can take you, you can take me just fine."

Haru's right on both counts; Makoto _is_ bigger than Haru but just slightly. It's not that significant of a gap (to him, anyway) but he _is_ bigger nonetheless. And there isn't really a question of whether or not he'd be able to take him. He'd find a way. He just wanted to say Haruka's name. Each time a little deeper and a little raunchier than the last.  
Because it got him hard.  
Because it made him wet.  
Because it left him gasping.  
Because it made him needier than he's ever seen him before.

He kisses him chastely on the lips and mumbles, "gonna have a taste of Haruka now."

He slides down his body, lips and tongue peppering him with kisses and licks along the way. A warm hand worms its way between Haru's legs and strokes the muscular thigh. It then makes its way to cup his balls and a errant finger presses at his perineum. Haru's hips buck off the bed at the touch and as a result, the finger catches at his puckered hole. A fingertip slips in when Haru's hips fall back down. Haru's legs seem to instinctively widen at the intrusion and Makoto nearly swallows his tongue at the lewd and wanton display.

"Fuck, Haru," he breathes roughly. His tongue swipes at his sack teasingly as he lightly wiggles his fingertip, not willing to breach anymore than that without explicit permission. "Is this okay?"

"Yes. _Fuckyes_... Please, Makoto."

He removes his finger, much to Haru's displeasure, but replaces it with his tongue and Haru is shouting obscenities that makes the _whole room_  blush because he's pretty sure everyone on their floor can hear. Makoto stiffens his tongue, holds his thighs apart and dives into his ass.

Haru feels everything at once; the nose pressed up against his tightening balls, the hot, wet, wriggling tongue slithering into his ass, the large hands stroking his thighs in a soothing manner. He can't seem to focus very well. There's too much happening so he surrenders himself to Makoto's inexperienced and exploratory but no less arousing touch. A string of unintelligible sounds and words of praise spill from his mouth, exalting the use of his tongue and fingers.

He's never been more glad that he bathed before drifting off to sleep in his life. Because _fuck_ , if he isn't going to come from Makoto's voice, then this might do it instead. But there's no need to be _unsanitary_ about it. Not when that same mouth and tongue is going to be on his cock. And _especially_ not when he plans on kissing that same mouth and tongue. Although, Makoto, being the most considerate human being in the world that he is, will probably run to the bathroom and rinse his mouth before doing so but still, he's definitely glad for the bath.

Makoto wants to continue tonguing him but by now, he can tell he's close from the way his body coils and trembles, and he wants Haru to come in his mouth. He presses a light kiss at his entrance when he withdraws and is _almost_ convinced to resume at the sounds of Haru's protestations but he holds firm. His nose nudges at Haru's balls, gently kissing each one. His hand coils around his erection, pumping him as his tongue sweep over the full and heavy sack. The _fucks_ and _mores_ and _Makotos_ tumble from somewhere above him; encouraging him upward and rewards Haru's patience with a sweep his tongue at the base of his cock. He licks at him lazily; swiping over the throbbing, pounding vein at the underside of his shaft and relishing in the cacophony of sounds emitting from his lover.

Haru greedily thrusts at him, tugging at a tuft of hair wrapped around his fingers and trying to maneuver Makoto’s mouth to his erection. Makoto gladly lets him guide his mouth to the dripping cock. He flicks his tongue at the pearly bead of pre-come dribbling from his slit. Haru's gasp quickly turns into a choked moan when Makoto seals his lips around his cockhead and sucks.

 _Hard_.

"Fuck!" Haru wails. His head thunks heavily on the mattress and he babbles about how fucking good Makoto feels. "Makoto. _Fuck_ , Makoto… _More_. Pl-please. Keep... Keep going. _Mako…TO_!"

Haru's jaw slackens, his throat dry, and his voice hitches and grows hoarse from chanting Makoto's name. Every grunt and moan sounding different from the one before; soft, sharp, loud, low, breathy, silent. Until he doesn't remember his own name, what he's doing, or where he is. Until only one thought pervades:

_Makoto. Makoto. Makoto.  
_

Makoto's tongue and lips push the foreskin back and a fresh gush of pre-come splashes into his mouth. He hums at the taste. He's pretty sure it's just his imagination, but he swears it tastes different than before when he licked Haru's spunk off his fingers. He slowly takes him deeper, and then pulling back slightly before taking more of him. He repeats the process, breathing through his nose as his mouth slowly accommodates his girth. His tongue coils around every new centimeter of flesh until he feels the spongy head hit the back of his throat. He itches to keep going; to take him until his nose is _buried_ in the dark coarse curls of his crotch but he knows that Haru is desperate. He can feel him vibrating; can hear the gasps, pants and broken moans. He withdraws just enough for him to curl his long fingers around the base of his shaft, squeezing and pumping gently as his mouth slides eagerly up and down the pulsating flesh.

He tries to remember what Haru had done to him because that felt _so fucking good_ but his brain is such a scrambled mess that when he thinks he has a grasp on it, it flutters away. So he lets instinct take over; lets his jaw find a comfortable pace that doesn't strain and tire him too much. He rolls his tongue, rubbing the head with the underside of his tongue. He wraps his lips tightly around him, the combination of Haru's pre-come and saliva helping him to easily glide his lips over him.

Haru's curiosity gets the better of him and he props himself up on his elbows to watch Makoto's glistening lips stretch and slide around him. He notices Makoto gently thrusting against the hard mattress and realizes that Makoto must be hard again. He curses under his breath at the sights and sensations. Makoto clearly hears him because his eyes meet his and he licks his lips at the glimmering way he's looking at him.

" _Makoto_ ," he rasps roughly, "are you h-hard?"

He knows the answer. Makoto _knows_ he knows the answer. But he asks anyway, he _needs_ the confirmation. Makoto blinks slowly, as if not understanding the question. But then he moans around him, rolling his hips against the bed and moans again. Haru groans at the confirmation.  
He briefly wishes that he felt him get hard, wanted to feel his soft cock swell and pulse and lengthen and fill with blood and arousal in his hands and/or mouth. But it's enough knowing that Makoto got hard because he enjoys touching him. That, he too, enjoys having his cock in his mouth and sucking him off. "Fuck. _Makoto_. ...Touch yourself." He gasps again at the vibrations caused by Makoto's groan at the command.

He removes his hand from Haru's cock and, without letting him slip out of his mouth, Makoto pushes himself to his knees. With one elbow, he braces himself up and he parts his knees until he's balanced between his legs. He slides his other hand down his body, pausing at his chest to flick his nipple. Makoto's eyes doesn't stray from Haru's face as his head bobs up and down between his thighs. He wraps his hand around his rock hard cock and at the first stroke, his groan rumbles deeply from his chest.

Haru mewls at the reverberations, panting as he watches the movements of Makoto's shoulder as he jerks himself off. He imagines the large, thick fingers curling around the even larger, thicker cock. Haru's hand fly to Makoto's head, tunneling his fingers through his full, thick hair and gently thrusts into his hot, wet mouth. Makoto hums happily around him—delighting in having Haru guide his head in his lap.  
And he's close. _Fuck_ , he's _so_ close. He just needs...

Haru climaxes with a strangled shout when the backs of Makoto's gently teeth scrape over the thick vein of his cock. The heavy rope of salty-bitter come slides down Makoto's throat in which he eagerly swallows but some dribbles out from the corner of his mouth. When he's sure Haru's emptied himself in his mouth, he releases him and pushes himself upright. He kneels with his knees spread apart. He pumps himself quickly and roughly; his chest expanding and contracting with every labored breath, sweat streaking down his temples as he gasps and pants.

Haru stares intently in fascination. He's left wishing that he could jerk himself off at the sight of Makoto masturbating. He sits up and slides his hand across Makoto's chest and the gentle touch is all that Makoto needs to come. He cries Haru's name, his semen splattering across Haru's chest and stomach and dripping onto the sheets.

Makoto sways—nearly collapsing—but Haru catches him and gently lays him down on his side. Haru brushes his hair away from his face and kisses his forehead, "better?" he mumbles quietly. He feels Makoto nod tiredly against him and he nuzzles his face into his neck.

The stickiness between their bodies becomes increasingly difficult to ignore. "I came all over you, Haru... Sorry."

Haru huffs a chuckle. As if they _hadn't_ come all over each other before now? "Don't worry. You can clean me up."

"Just... Give me five minutes, okay? We'll take a shower." He nips at his chin, "or do you prefer a bath?"

"Your bathtub is too small for both of us."

"It's your bathtub too now. And I'm sure we can figure something out."

"You're just going to hurt yourself."

"Haru!" He grumbles, "that's so mean."

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Five minutes. Shower. Dinner. Sound good?"

Makoto grins sleepily at Haru, "sounds perfect... _Haruka_."

_Dammit, Makoto.  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that escalated quickly. This was not meant to be anything substantial. It was just going to be straight up smut and yet here we are... With feelings and communication and shit. My brain went to complex when I wanted simple. Why do you torture me, brain? I seriously don't know what to do with my brain when it thinks thinky thoughts. Random tangents just snowball and coalesce and instead of a quick and simple chapter, I get this.
> 
> Otherwise, I'm cackling in glee because, AHAHAHA this is just too amusing. They're very conversant when they're being lovers in the nighttime. Super talky and mouthy from both parties. It amuses me. I'm glad they have fun. May you all have as much fun as these two!
> 
> Also, this may turn into a dumping ground for all kinds of addendums. We'll see how future chapters go. I'm still sketching the rest of it out.
> 
> Anyway, stay tuned for Chapter 8 of Term of Endearment!  
> As always, thanks for reading!


	2. March: Addendum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no intention to post this. I was just going to leave this buried in the deep, dark, _depraved_ recesses of my brain but then my fingers began typing and spat out this. 
> 
> Apologies to those who were hoping for the further adventures with our favorite band of idiots or for the Tachibana-Nanase fun family dinner time. You get smut instead. Try not to be _too_ disappointed.

“All right, so we have to make a quick run to the mall to get gifts for Ran and Ren's birthday sleepover and then do the grocery shopping so I'd say you'd have, what, two hours?” She turns to her husband, “does that sound right?”

“Just about, yes.”

“Great. Two _and a half hours_ ,” she grins with a playful twinkle and Makoto is whimpering in embarrassment again. “Please... Just go, mom.”

She finally takes pity on him and hugs him, “don't look so upset, Makoto. I'm just teasing you. You know we don’t mean it.” She turns to Haru and has the decency to look sheepish, “I'm sorry, Haruka-kun, if I made you uncomfortable, just know it wasn’t our intention.”  

Haru _knows_ that she knows that she did in fact make him uncomfortable but she's still sparing him from admitting it. Greatest human being to ever human being indeed. Even if her sense of humor is wildly inappropriate.

“It's just... Makoto is so easy to rile up,” she stage-whispers as if it were some big secret.

“Mom…” he whines childishly.

“See what I mean?”

“Mom!”

Haru nods along, “ I know what you mean.”

“Haru!”

“Bless you, Haruka-kun for taking care of him. _And_ for taking him off our hands.”

“Hey! That is so mean! I'm your _son_!”

“And I will always love you, dear,” she leans up to peck his cheek before she flounces back next to the twins and Mr. Tachibana, “see you two later!”

They turn and start to head back to the Tachibana residence but after a short while, Haru breaks the silence with a quiet snort. "I can't believe your mom thought our sex life was appropriate breakfast conversation."

Makoto winces, his face scrunching up in horror. "I am _so_ sorry, Haru-chan... I never knew my mom had such a warped sense of humor."

"At least now I know where her son gets it from..."

"Wha—? I don't—!"

"You do. It's far more explicit than your mom's but you most certainly do. Your mom is trained in the art of subtly."

Makoto groans and reddens as he recalls the words his mother had said during tea time. Taken out of context, there was nothing wrong with it. It can perfectly be construed as his mom saying mom things.  
_Do try to behave, okay?_  There is nothing wrong with this sentence! She's the parent, he's the child. Parents tell their kids to behave all the time. That's just what parents do.  
_Clean up after yourselves._ Again, nothing unusual. Kids are messy and they need to learn how to pick and clean up after themselves. Another parent-y thing that parents say.  
The problem lies in the fact that he is most definitely  _not_ a child; not emotionally, not mentally, and certainly not physically. He isn't five or ten or even sixteen years old. He's an adult now... More or less. He no longer lives under his parents' roof. He no longer has to get approval or permission to do every little thing. He’s in a serious, loving, and committed relationship. So, yeah, decidedly _not_ a child.

And the tone... Oh, gods, the _tone_ made it _**so much worse**_. Made it into something it had _no_ business in being. His friends teasing him is one thing. But his mom? His _parents_? (Because dad was totally of no help and if anything, his snickering only  _encouraged_ it.) It's a million times worse.  
His kingdom to be able to let these things roll off his back.  
His kingdom to be able to laugh it off and not let it affect him as much as it does.

He's brought out of his meandering thoughts when Haru squeezes his hand. "It's okay. I admit, it was a little… embarrassing. But, also kind of nice. In a way."

"Nice? How was _any_ of that _nice_!?"

Haru gives him a look of impatience; his boyfriend can be so dense at times. "It was nice because they're comfortable with us being us. Comfortable enough with _us_ that they can still tease. It's a Tachibana sign of affection, you know." Haru glances at their joined hands and can actually feel the corners of his mouth curve upward. "I know that they accept us and are happy for us but it's nice that just because we're together now, it hasn't changed how they treat us. And that no matter what happens, it won’t affect the way they treat us. That we can still be us and they can still be them."

Makoto's brilliant, stupidly bright smile reaches his eyes (Haru's _**favorite**_ smile) and squeezes back. Haru can have such a way with words when he wants to. Sometimes, he forgets that Haru can see things as well or even better than he can. "It _is_ a Tachibana sign of affection, isn't it? How did I never notice that?"

"Because you _are_ a Tachibana."

After a long, quiet walk along the sea-side, and after Makoto had to tug Haru's wrist away from the water because _it's too fucking cold to be swimming in the ocean_ , they're back at the Tachibana household. But before entering, Haru sighs and looks longingly at his late grandmother's house, wishing for the quiet tranquility it always offered him. And then idly hoping that the tenants are treating the house with respect and haven't trashed the place. He plans on reclaiming his home after graduating so it better be in pristine condition when he returns for it. Makoto ushers Haru into the doorway, removing their shoes. He looks over his shoulder and sees Makoto straightening up.

"Do you want to nap first? Or shower?"

Makoto wrinkles his nose, disgusted that he had gone to breakfast with his parents in such a sorry state. "Shower. I feel gross."

"You smell like beer," Haru grouses as he ascends the genkan.

Makoto follows him, hugging him from behind and digging his forehead into his shoulder, "I already apologized, Haru-chan... It's just... everything just spiraled into sheer chaos so fast with Sousuke and Rin. And then Gou and Momo and I just—"

"Decided to spiral right along with them?"

"It wasn't my intention."

"You know... Nagisa thought it would be hilarious for him to start drinking too."

"Wait, did he—?"

"Oh, yeah. After _you_ started, it became a free for all. The dam broke and with a drunk, or even a slightly-buzzed-Nagisa, it broke any semblance of order. Things got wildly out of control pretty quickly."

Makoto winces—he can easily imagine what a handful a drunk Nagisa would be. "I am so, _so_ _sorry_ , Haru-chan."

He looks away and shrugs, “whatever. It's done. I already gave Rin shit about it." Haru plucks at his dirty shirt in distaste. "Ugh, I need to wash up too."

Makoto urges Haru toward the bathroom, "you go ahead. I'll grab some towels." Haru doesn't need to be told twice as his clothes are flying through the air the same moment he races down the hall. "Haru! At least wait until you're in the bathroom!"

"There's no one here but us. Who cares," he shouts back at him.

"I mean, you're not wrong. But honestly..." Makoto grumbles under his breath and picks up the discarded clothes to dump in the hamper.

As the tub fills, Haru hops into the shower—scrubbing the sweat, beer, grime, and whatever else that clung to his skin (and hair) from the day prior. He doesn't stay long; stays there just long enough to sufficiently rid himself of the gunk and quickly rinses off the soap and shampoo before eagerly sliding into the tub.  
He sighs in relief. _Sweet, sweet haven_ , he smiles as he sinks deeper into the warm water. He registers a quiet knock before Makoto ambles in. After hanging the towels behind the door, he ducks under the shower head to clean himself.  
Suddenly, Haru is far more interested in something other than soaking in the tub. He leans over, folding his arms atop of the rim and resting his cheek against the crook of his elbow.

"Don't forget to clean your dick, Makoto."

Makoto comically jumps in the air, startled at Haru's (un)helpful reminder. "Haru! Were you watching?!"

Haru waves his hand dismissively, “and your butt. Clean your butt too."

"I will!" He screeches. " _Not_ because you told me to! But because you _should_ clean your butt. Now stop looking!"

His head lolls against his arm, a nonchalant expression stretching across his face. “It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"That's besides the point!"

His arm hangs lifelessly over the rim, “it's nothing I haven't had my mouth or tongue on."

"Haru!"

He sighs forlornly, “or _in_."

Makoto flushes and flicks water at him, " _Haruuu_!"

Haru rolls his eyes and grumbles but sinks under the water anyway. He smirks when he realizes that he can still perfectly see Makoto from his vantage point. He won't tell Makoto that though; he'll just whine about it some more. He closes his eyes—enjoying the water's embrace—focusing on the warm water swirling over and around his limbs. The next time he opens his eyes, Makoto enters his field of vision—holding out his hand for Haru.

Haru breaks the surface but frowns, "aren't you coming in?"

“Oh,” he turns bright red and scratches his cheek bashfully, “you want me to?"

"We can't really do this in Toyko. Your tub is too small."

" _Our_ tub, Haru-chan," he sighs fondly.

"Join me."

Makoto nods and slides in at the other end of the tub and laughs. "Still a bit tight, isn't it?"

"Well, when one of us is the size of a tree, of course everything is going to be small."

"I'm not a tree!"

Haru grunts; he is _not_ getting into his height issues with Makoto again, and leans forward. It feels like it's been _days_  (it has) and he _really_ misses the way Makoto kisses him. And the way Makoto tastes. And the way Makoto, well, _everything_.

"Kiss me," he demands.

Makoto smiles at Haru's eagerness and urgency and meets his lips, cradling his face with both hands and grazing gently before firmly pressing his mouth against his. Flicking his tongue at Haru's smiling lips, he then draws his bottom lip between his teeth and suckles at it. The lukewarm water sloshes around them as Haru grips Makoto's shoulders and pulls himself between the his spread legs. His hands brush and caress at the soft and supple skin of Makoto's thighs, leaving him panting and shuddering.

Makoto reluctantly pulls away. "We," he starts and swallows harshly, "we shouldn't, Haru-chan."

"Why not?" He nips impatiently at his lips and chin. "Your parents are basically expecting us to."

"That makes it even worse!"

He bites back a frustrated sigh. Makoto could be so maddeningly obtuse at times. "I _miss_ you, Makoto. Just… touch me." His hot breath curls around his red, puffy, kiss-swollen lips, his bright blue eyes darken and droop heavily in arousal, and Haru hopes Makoto can hear the heavy thuds of his heartbeat because he _really_ needs Makoto to tear down the last remaining shreds of modesty and _do something_.

It works as Makoto growls and grabs the back of his head, mashing his lips against his own. Their slick bodies crash together, sending waves of water spilling over the rim. "I miss you too," he mumbles against his lips. The sense of urgency slowly ebbs away the longer they kiss and Makoto slides his hands across Haru's back and shoulders—pulling Haru close, his fingers expertly kneading the corded muscles stretched under warm skin.  
Haru reaches for him, intent on having his beautiful, thick, throbbing cock pulsing in his hands, but Makoto grasps his wrist, "not here," he groans and reluctantly stands. The cooling bath water cascades off Makoto's hard, tight body like a waterfall, his rapidly swelling cock dripping wet and Haru can't help but bite his lip at his two favorite things—Makoto and water—combined.

Makoto climbs out of the bathtub, pausing in the shower to let the water still  _clinging_ to his skin (Haru never thought he'd be jealous of water but here he is) trickle down the drain. Haru clamors out after him, dropping to his knees behind him and smirks; Makoto hasn't noticed him yet as he's rubbing his hair dry with his yellow and white striped towel.

He licks him teasingly, tracing the path that a particularly slow and stubborn droplet of water had taken over the curve of his ass.

Makoto squeaks indignantly, "Haru! What are you _doing_?!"

Haru chuckles at the question. He can't seriously be asking that, can he? He twirls his tongue at the dimpled curve just above his ass crack.

"You... You shouldn't..." but cuts off as a delightfully lurid moan echoes off the tiled room when Haru's tongue prods at his puckered rim.

He nibbles at his hip, "why not? You cleaned yourself. I know because I watched you."

"Haru!" he protests weakly.

But Haru's tongue is sliding back between his firm buttocks, flicking the tight hole with his dexterous and nimble tongue. Makoto groans, snapping his hips back and sighing in exasperation at having given in so easily to Haru's manipulations. It's unfair how readily his body welcomes Haru's touch. His hands brace against the slick, tiled walls, praying that it's enough to keep him upright. His gasp rings loudly; surprising even him, at Haru's unexpected change of pace as he vigorously sinks his tongue in and out of Makoto's tight channel.

"Fuck. _Fuck_... _Hah_ -Haruka..."

Haru hums greedily, wriggling his tongue deeper into Makoto's convulsing entrance, rubbing his hot, soft walls with his wet muscle. His hands drift, grip, and grope at Makoto's shaking body; one hand gliding over his water-slicked back while the other curves to his chest. Hands caressing, squeezing, scratching, and fondling his pectorals, abdominal, obliques, lats, traps— whatever he can reach.  
Makoto arches, jerking his ass into Haru's face and, Haru, finding himself hypnotized by the curve of his back, digs his thumb into his arched spine; kneading and massaging along his vertebrae—squeezing a low, husky groan out of his breathless lover.  
After getting his fill, his restless hands continue their curious trek across twitching muscle and smooth skin; over hips, thighs, ass, calves, knees, shins, even ankles all get equal attention from Haru's teasing fingers. His teeth scrapes at his cleft, pulling a gasp from Makoto's lips.

"Makoto."

"W—what?"

"Touch yourself,” he murmurs against the swell of his ass, swirling his tongue along his hipbone.

Makoto laughs inappropriately, “do you like it when I touch myself, Haruka?"

Haru bites his ass playfully, "among other things..."

Makoto laughs again, breathlessly, all while sliding his hand down, stopping to squeeze Haru's fingers that were tickling at his happy trail. He sighs when he wraps his fingers around himself, exhaling shakily at the long, slow stroke.  
Haru re-focuses on his glistening opening, redoubling his efforts to slither his tongue into the deepest recesses of his ass. Makoto's unhurried strokes quickly grow erratic; pumping himself frantically until he's spilling himself onto the tiled walls with a silent scream—Haru rolling his heavy scrotum in his hands and pressing his perineum pushing him over the precipice. Makoto's head drops against the shower wall with a dull thud, panting contently.

Haru climbs up to his feet, kissing along Makoto's trembling spine and coming to a stop at his neck; nipping at the soft skin. "Are you okay?"

Makoto releases a shuddering breath, "yeah. Just... need a minute."

Haru rubs gentle circles at his lower back, soothing Makoto and coaxing his breathing to even. "Why don't you go to bed? I'll clean up; drain the tub."

Makoto swallows noisily, wanting to protest but ultimately decides to let Haru take of things. Smacking his lips, he acquiesces, "'kay," and stumbles away from the bathroom.

He grunts when he lands on the bed, flipping over and letting his legs dangle over the edge. He feels his bones rattling in his frame, feeling both tired and reinvigorated as he waits for Haru to join him. He must have been more out of it than he thought because he hadn't heard Haru enter, didn't realize he wasn't alone until he felt Haru's pointed tongue rubbing at his slit.

He jolts in surprise, trying to pry Haru off him with limited success. "Wait! Haru!" Makoto pants urgently, "I _can't_! I— _fuck_ — I just came!"

But Haru ignores him. He's a young man with a raring libido. The very idea that he _can't_ is downright preposterous. He pulls his foreskin back and takes his length between his lips, swirling his tongue at the head and pumping the rest of his cock with his warm hands. His tongue, mouth, teeth, and hands coaxing him to harden again.

Makoto sobs incoherently. His body begins shivering uncontrollably at Haru's mouth sucking at him. His skin feels hot— _too hot—_ his head feels dizzy, like he has an extreme case of vertigo even though he's lying down, and his vision blurs unhelpfully.

And, _oh fuck, why is this happening_?

His body is far too sensitive for this right now; hasn't had enough time to recover. It borders on painful and another sharp cry tumbles from his throat because despite it all; despite his reservations and protestations and insistence that he _can't_ , it just feels _so **fucking good**_. Because he's hard again— _so fucking hard_ ; he can actually feel himself swelling in Haru's tight, narrow mouth—filling him—can feel his lips stretch around his pounding cock. And he wants to come— _needs_ to come—needs to come so, _so_ desperately because his cock is tender and aching and raw and _so fucking sore_.

And Haru must the the fucking devil for doing this to him because he can no longer think as his brain shuts down and there's nothing left but mindless pleasure. So at a particularly hard suck, coupled with flick of his tongue and a twist of the wrist, Makoto comes with a heaving sob, shooting his release into Haru's welcoming mouth, proving that he in fact,  _can_ , and sinks bonelessly into the mattress.

Haru’s mouth and fingers skim up his body, crawling onto the bed to kiss the rapid pitter-patter cadence thump-thumping beneath his lips. He nips at his beating chest and moves to suck at his pounding pulse at his jugular before settling next to him.

The next time he’s aware of his surroundings, Haru is stroking his rib cage while his head is cradled against the curve of his chest and shoulder. He licks his lips, his head still muddled but able to find the words, “what… what happened?” he slurs.

Haru shifts and looks up at him, concern evident in his eyes, “you blacked out for a little bit."

“I… wha?"

“Hm,” he confirms, “you were pretty out of it.” He rolls into him, chin resting at his sternum and brushing his hair out of his eyes, “are you okay?” he murmurs with concern.

“Not sure…” he rumbles groggily. Haru leans up to kiss him, his tongue darting out to coax his mouth open. Makoto sighs, “minty… did you brush your teeth?"

“Mouthwash."

“So considerate."

“Hm. Feel better now?"

“Well, at the very least my brain doesn’t feel like mush anymore…”

Makoto pulls him up, rolling him onto his back, “Haru…” his tongue flickers out, running it along the seam of his lips and then teeth are nipping at his chin as his hands dance along his ribs before the pads of his fingers ghosts along his hard shaft. Makoto murmurs nonsensically, smiling when his cock twitches against his teasing touches. “You’re two behind, Haru-chan.”

Haru rakes his fingers through his own (sufficiently) disheveled hair, beating back a groan, “lay off the -chan, Makoto.” He lifts his head, "I didn’t realize we were keeping track."

Makoto chuckles fondly, “let’s catch you up, ne, Haruka?" Makoto curls his fingers around him and begins to lightly stroke him.

Makoto smiles at Haru sighing into his mouth. He wants to take his time with him—to bring him to the brink time and time again before letting him fall— but alone time is severely limited during their stay in Iwatobi and the unpredictability in his family returning home means slow will have to wait until they get back to Tokyo.  
He reluctantly withdraws from Haru’s warm mouth and trails his lips down his slender neck, pausing briefly to suck at his pulse but not long enough to leave a mark; the last thing he needs is for his parents (and friends) to notice a giant hickey on his boyfriend and then teasing him (them) for the rest of their stay. His teeth scrape over his collarbone, tugging the soft skin and then dipping his tongue in the hollow groove of his larynx. He nearly becomes distracted but Haru whines impatiently above him and normally, he’d admonish him for it but in this instance, he’s right. His family should be due back within the hour and now _really_ isn’t the time. He chastely kisses his chest, abdomen, and hips before laying an _absurdly_ chaste kiss at the head of his cock.

Haru gasps Makoto’s name, urging him to stop fooling around and just suck him off because they’re here for another eight days and they’re most likely not going to have another chance to do anything remotely physical until they’re back in Tokyo. And eight days is a lot of days. Like, eight too many.  
He _really_ wishes that his grandmother’s house isn't occupied right now. Being fiscally responsible is such a damn bummer. But Makoto surprises him and stops pussyfooting around and swallows him whole, lips wrapping around his girth and taking his cock until it hits the back of his throat. Makoto's head bobs over his length, his hands gently squeezing his sac. Haru whimpers at the feeling, one hand fisting Makoto's hair while the other fists the sheets. He quickly realizes that he won’t last much longer considering how hard and tender he’d been since the bath. So when the backs Makoto’s teeth catches the underside of his belled head, he’s not surprised when he comes with a flourish.

He lies in a sweaty mess, his limbs feeling as heavy as lead. He whimpers—he’s come and Makoto has cleaned him up but Makoto’s mouth is still on him and _fuck_ , _am I getting_ _hard again_? And now his cock is beginning to tingle and he’s pretty sure it isn’t supposed to do that. He weakly tries to bat Makoto off him but his arms flat out refuses to cooperate so now _all_ his extremities are beginning to tingle and, while not exactly unpleasant, it is strange and sort of uncomfortable—not unlike the pins and needles sensation of a limb falling asleep. Except duller. And it’s _all_ _over_ and how the hell does he get it to stop?

Makoto finally let’s him go but he’s rearranging his spent body up in a sitting position and sliding behind him and murmuring, “you came so much, Haruka."

Haru groans tiredly and chokes out, “...it's been  _four_ days—" since they were intimate. 

“You have quite a bit built up,” Makoto finishes for him. “It’s no good to keep things bottled up, Haruka."

Haru belatedly realizes Makoto’s intentions. “Wait, Makoto…" But before he can stop it, Makoto has both of his hands captured tightly in one of his own. He half-heartedly tries to extricate himself but he's more curious at what he's going to do than anything else.

“And you’re still one behind," Makoto purrs against his ear.

_Oh. Oh, shit. Not good. Not good at all. Shit. Shit.Shit.Shit!_

“Shit, _wait_ , Makoto. You can’t possibly—“ He gasps when Makoto wraps his hand around his _extremely fucking sensitive dick, and_ _what the actual fuck_? But he’s too far gone and far too overwhelmed by the stinging-pain-pleasure of it all to do anything about it except whine.

“ _Makoto_ … you have to… _fuck_ , Makoto, I'm not _read_ — _DY_ —!" he cuts off in a low and gravelly groan.

“Have to what, Haruka?"

A sharp hiss is torn from his throat and he can’t form words anymore because his brain feels like a scrambled mess but he _knows_ he’s cursing Makoto. _Especially_ when Makoto begins to thumb and play with his smooth and tender and _**painfully swollen**_ cockhead; rubbing it gently and then roughly and then dipping his finger into the leaking slit. The constant change in speed and pressure stings and burns and bites every nerve, cell, and molecule in his body.

With a blissed-out Haru, Makoto lets go of his hands—which drop limply to his sides—and with his newly freed hand, Makoto traces the thick, pulsating vein on the underside of his cock _with blunt nails_ , his full and heavy cock spasming erratically in Makoto's hands. The pressure climbs, squeezing him relentlessly and it almost feels like he really needs to pee and it _burns_.  
Makoto slides his hand to his testicles, running them between his fingers and softly squeezing him, causing Haru to pump his hips and wheezing Makoto’s name. And Makoto is muttering, _fucking_   _narrating_ , his intentions. His tongue swipes at the tragus before sinking his teeth into the shell of his ear. He flicks his frenulum with his thumb the same time he presses his perineum and Haru comes with an inarticulate gasp that  _sounds_  suspiciously like " _Makoto_."

Makoto nuzzles the back of his neck, stroking his chest with his thumb while waiting for Haru recompose himself. It takes a while, but once he regains consciousness, Haru twists his body and shoves Makoto's shoulder with no heat behind it. “You fucking asshole,” he grouses.

“Ow," he rubs his shoulder in exaggeration. "What the hell, Haru?"

“What the hell is right, Makoto? I can’t believe you did that!"

Makoto’s jaw drops incredulously. He jabs an accusatory finger at him, “ _you_ don’t get to be fucking mad, _Haruka_! You did the _exact_ same thing to me so don’t even fucking _try_ to act like _you’re_ the aggrieved party here."

“It hurt!"

“Oh, relax. It _stung_. Only for a little bit. Stop crying about it.”

Haru splutters at his dismissal—it's so unlike Makoto.

“What, you think it didn’t hurt _me_?” He carefully enunciates each word for emphasis, "I thought I was going to _die_. I _told_ you to _wait_ but did you listen? No, of course not. _You never do_.” They glare at each other for a full minute. “If you’re expecting me to feel bad and apologize, don’t hold your breath."

And Haru doesn’t expect him to feel bad or apologize because he’s right. He’s the one that started it and he isn't really in any position to get upset. Makoto doesn’t need to know that though. Haru shifts off his lap; his cock soft but sore. So fucking sore.  
He lies on his side, still pouting at Makoto but also incredibly pleased. Four days is way too long to go between Makoto-induced orgasms. And, again, they're here for _eight more days_. He wonders if they can get a flight back with his parents when they're due back in Tokyo in two days.

Makoto laces their fingers together, lying on his side next to Haru. He brings his hands up and kisses his knuckles tenderly. "How do you feel?"

"Tired."

Makoto scoots closer to Haru, his droopy eyes fluttering at him almost seductively. "That's too bad," his voice low and gruff; with a scratchy quality to it, "was kinda hoping..." he trails off to curl his leg over Haru's hip and pull him into his body.

Haru's eyes shoot open in surprise, bright blue eyes gawking at Makoto in a mix of fascination and horror. "You... you _cannot_ be serious, Makoto," he stutters at the hard, hot cock pressing against his thigh.

"I can't help it," Makoto sighs while nudging Haru's cheek with his nose. Haru turns his head and Makoto flicks his ear with his tongue, "I got so hard watching Haruka come." Haru shudders, skin beginning to prickle, the fine hairs at his neck stand on end as Makoto continues, "I haven't touched you in four days... Haven't had your touch in four days."

"Oh, for the love of..." he breath shortens to tiny puffs, "you... you are so...  _thirsty_." 

Makoto pulls back slightly, surprised at Haru's use of the terminology. He snorts with laughter, "you... I didn't realize you knew what thirsty means..."

Haru arches an amused eyebrow, "I spend most days in a locker room full of horny guys, of course I know what thirsty is."

"Oh," he nods in comprehension because, _duh_. “Wait, you… you talk about that stuff?"

"It's been brought up from time to time. _Not_ by me."

“Do— you don’t... talk about _us,_ do you?"

"Sure I do. Just the other day, I told them that you do this amazing thing with your tong—"

"Haru!" He admonishes but upon noticing the teasing grin on his face, he realizes he'd been joking. "Oh. You're just joking."

"Of course I'm joking. I don't broadcast our sex life. **But** they are aware that I _have_ a sex life and that _you're_ it."

"What? How?"

Haru turns an unbelieving eye toward Makoto, "you're kidding, right? I spend my days half naked and you leave hickeys and bite marks _all over my body_. People tend to notice that type of thing. And considering that _you're_ the only one I ever _want_ hang out with; the only one I'm ever excited to see; the one I _live_ with, they very quickly figured out that _you're_ my live-in boyfriend and that we get up to a lot of not-safe-for-work type situations."

Makoto flushes; not out of embarrassment or arousal but because Haru's words fills him with such tender warmth. And okay, maybe a little bit of embarrassment and arousal too. "They've never said anything whenever I come pick you up..."

"Because they have more tact than our idiot friends." He rolls his eyes and corrects himself, "just a little bit more tact than our idiot friends. Instead of ant-sized tact, it's cockroach-sized."

Haru squirms against him, trying to find a more comfortable position to lie in. “My coaches and trainers totally freaked the first time I showed up to practice covered in bruises.” Makoto buries his face into Haru’s shoulder, groaning in distress. “They realized what they were once they saw you and saw all the marks I left on _you_."

“I am so, so sorry, Haru."

“What are you apologizing for? It doesn’t bother me and it’s not like they won’t let me in the water because of it. It’s fine. I care if they know."

Makoto bites his lip to keep himself from breaking out into a blindingly goofy smile because he likes people knowing too.

Makoto shifts, his stiff cock inadvertently brushing against Haru's. He smirks. "You're hard again too. You're just as thirsty as I am, Haruka."

"Shut up," he mutters, exhaustion flooding his system.

Makoto sits up, rearranging Haru's limbs and sitting between his thighs—his knees bent and legs draped over Haru's hips. He reaches for Haru, pulling him up to a seated position and slides forward until their erections are pressed together.  
Haru sighs contently, leaning back on one hand as the other wraps around their throbbing lengths. A groan of _Haruka_ breaks through the ragged pants and sharp gasps. And Makoto fills the spaces between Haru's fingers with his own to fist their cocks languidly.

" _Hah_ , _Mako_ -to," he pants quietly, his voice faltering as their hands speed up. "I... I want to kiss you, Makoto."

Makoto's moan gets stuck in his throat, sounding like a wheeze instead. He wraps his arm around Haru, pulling him into his body until their chests press up against each other and slides his dry lips over Haru's. Haru parts his lips instantly; eager for Makoto's wet tongue to invade his mouth, his moans getting lost and swallowed up in Makoto's warmth.  
Their breathing grow shallow as they stroke themselves to completion, getting closer and closer to their peaks, and finishing when Makoto slides a finger between them, holding their cocks in a tight grip and squeezing their smooth, taut tips together. 

They collapse next to each other, hearts pounding, vision blurring, and breaths heaving.

"Did... did you come?" Haru pants in confusion.

"Of course," he breathes back.

"But..." _Nothing came out_.

"Yeah... I know. That was a first. Felt kind of weird. _Good_ weird though."

"Where's your laptop?” Haru sits up abruptly.

"My— why do you want my laptop?"

"I need to look this up. That doesn't seem normal."

"What doesn't seem norm—? Haru... Do... do you mean about me dry coming?" Haru frowns at the unfamiliar term and Makoto takes that as confirmation. "No, Haru, it's fine. It's normal for our age group."

“It... is?"

"Yeah, it isn't something to worry about."

"...Why do you know so much about this?"

"It was mentioned in sex-ed, Haru."

" _I_ don't remember that."

"It was _briefly_ mentioned. I got curious so... I looked it up."

"You got... _curious_?"

"Well, I mean, the concept of a dry orgasm was just so bizarre because every time I... uh, that is... when I..."

"Masturbate?" Haru smirks in amusement at Makoto's inability to say the word _without_ getting flustered and stumbling over it.

"Yes, thank you, Haru," he grits through clenched teeth, "every time I _masturbate_ , I come. …A lot. So yeah, dry orgasms sounded totally crazy but it's totally normal! Which, you know, actually makes sense because well, when we come multiple times over the course of a few hours, we... uh, sort of, just... run out," he finishes with a mumble. "So you see? It’s nothing to worry about."

“Oh…” Haru’s brows perks in interest.

Makoto shakes his head adamantly, shutting down that train of thought _**immediately**_. “Nope! Haru, _no_. I know that look and the answer is _no_."

“But—!"

“ _No_ , Haru! My family should be back soon and there’s no time!"

Makoto slides off the bed and onto his feet. “Come on, let’s go,” he sighs heavily and tilts his head, staring at the ceiling, “I _can’t_ believe I’m saying this…” He looks back at Haru, “mom will never let me live it down if she knew…" He takes a breath to brace himself, "we gotta clean up after ourselves.”

Haru rolls off the bed to join Makoto. Luckily, they didn’t make too much of a mess. The towel Makoto was using earlier bore the brunt from Haru's second orgasm. And his third was merely a splash. They quickly clean up; shuffling back to the bathroom to rinse off in the shower as fast humanly as possible before the rest of the Tachibanas can catch them in a compromising situation.

* * *

His mother swings the door of his bedroom open. She frowns at the scene. Haru and Makoto are sitting side by side in front of the modestly sized television, playing video games.

“Oh. You’re… decent."

Makoto gapes, “were you expecting us not to be?!"

She shrugs indifferently, “a little bit."

“And you weren’t going to knock!?"

“Well, it’s _my_ house."

Haru thinks Makoto perfectly imitates a fish. “You’re a pervert, mom! I’m your son!"

She frowns. She really was joking about the whole thing but clearly, Makoto didn’t get the memo. She suspects Haruka does though. “Come downstairs and help us put stuff away. Preferably before Ran and Ren make a mess of things.” She leaves them alone and Makoto exhales in relief.

“That was close. Way, way, way too close. Can you believe her?!"

“She was joking, Makoto."

“Wh? How do _you_ know?"

“She’s your mother. You have the same tell."

“We do?"

“She was never expecting any shenanigans from her sweet, gentle, mild-mannered, _polite_ son,” his eyes slide over to the slouching figure next to him, “little does she know, her son isn’t as polite or docile as you’ve led her to believe… The poor, deceived woman doesn’t know that her son is a profane, obscene pervert."

“I am not!"

“Do I need to remind you what you did to me just fifteen minutes ago?"

“Whatever.” Aware that his face is flushed, he scrambles to his feet, “let’s go. Mom is expecting us to help with… whatever.” Makoto stomps out of the room, leaving Haru to shake his head at his adorably idiotic boyfriend before rising to his feet to follow him.

Eight more days of the Tachibana sign of affection to endure. Eight more days of no—or at the very most, limited—intimate contact with his irresistible boyfriend. He really hopes he can survive it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, _that_ happened...
> 
> I think my brain is permanently stuck on smut and I have no idea how to switch gears.  
> Oh well. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ What can you do?
> 
> FYI in case anyone is interested: the tragus is the prominence on the inner side of the external ear, in front of and partly closing the passage to the organs of hearing.
> 
> Also, seriously, PSA: it's important to clean your bums. So don't be shy. I'm not saying you should shove your whole finger up your ass (unless you want to) but you know, get a fingertip in there. Wriggle it around. It's always a good idea to be hygienic. You don't want traces of poop stuck around your bunghole, do ya?  
> Clean your penises too. Obviously. 
> 
> That was a bit inappropriate, wasn't it? Yeah, that was a bit inappropriate.  
> Oh well. Until next time!


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